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My phone buzzes against my thigh and I unzip the side pocket in my running pants to pull it out.
A text from my brother, Lazarus:Got a muffin and Sara's latest tea concoction waiting for you. Respond to let me know you didn't keel over in the woods and are being gnawed on by a rabid raccoon.
My stomach rumbles at the mention of one of Lazy's muffins. They might be store bought, but they are delicious, and have the added bonus of his company. I pace as I text him back.
Me:Aren't you in the middle of the morning rush? How the hell do you have time to text me a novel?
Lazy:Lull in the traffic. Where the hell are you? Leg cramp?
Me:Tourist who thought she could crash on NPL and not pay the fee.
Lazy:I'll put aside a second muffin for you.
My brother knows me well. Stress drives me to sugar like a bear to honey.
Me:Make it bran. I'm training.
He responds with three laughing emojis.
I roll my eyes as I stuff my phone back in my pocket. Maybe he knows me too well. The danger of living in close proximity to family in a town small enough that all the locals know my business: there are no secrets.
I glance at my watch. It's been fifteen minutes. Which means I'm going in after the tourist.
Fuck me.
I pull my phone back out and text my second in command, Josie Albright.
Me:Might be late this morning. Got to chase down a tourist who's either gotten lost or is hiding from me.
Josie, also an early riser and never away from her phone, responds immediately:Woo-hoo! Hunting season on tourists. Want me to bring the dogs?
Even as annoyed as I am, I can't help my snort of laughter.
Me:Not yet. I'll be in touch. Have you opened the office?
Josie:Already here. Got five more messages about Bigfoot over night.
Fan-fucking-tastic.Me:I'll keep an eye out for him while I'm tracking the tourist.
Me:If you get a chance, there might be a car parked near the Blue Fern trail head. Can you run the plate for me?
Josie:On it, boss.
I stuff my phone back in my pocket and enter the woods at the same spot the idiot tourist did.
Despite my bad mood and annoyance, I can't help the burst of excitement that warms my blood or the smile on my face. Tracking is fun and tracking tourists I'm about to lay a bunch of fines on is the most fun.
The tourist's trail is easy as hell to follow. For such a tiny woman, she left a path of utter destruction in her wake. Broken tree branches, skid marks where she slipped on dew-dampened dead leaves. I even find a bit of red fabric from the ridiculous ratty sweatshirt she's wearing.
It only takes me a few minutes to find the tree where she stopped and, thank you, Jesus, just peed, but then the trail gets harder to follow. Did she walk circles around the tree because she was lost or because she was trying to lose me? Or did she hit her head, and she's got a traumatic brain injury?
My heart stutters at that last thought. I want the tourist to pay up. I don't want her to die on my watch.
With that horror in mind, I buckle down and get really serious. I study every twig and broken branch, every bit of mud and displaced leaf, until I find her trail again. Once I've found it, it's again incredibly easy to follow.
This woman would make a horrible fugitive. Clearly, she's never studied how to elude the authorities.
I have, but only because I have a lot of downtime. A lot of time alone walking and running in the woods. And I like to plan ahead. I don't think it's a problem.
